


Enquiries

by pickleplum



Series: Unconventional Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Glasgow, Pre-Canon, Scotland, Vampires, Young Minerva McGonagall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-30 21:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/pseuds/pickleplum
Summary: Minerva McGonagall, the newest employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, pushes past nerves and lingering heartbreak and ventures to Glasgow to investigate an uproar centered on the city's vampire population.





	Enquiries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoiraColleen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoiraColleen/gifts).



23 September 1954; Glasgow, Scotland, UK

 

Minerva McGonagall steps from the flames onto a stone hearth in a room decorated only with a mirror.

She straightens her hat atop her black hair, smooths down her coat, checks her boots for ashes. 

Reassured she'll make the proper impression, she puts her shoulders back, strides from the fireplace room, through the reserved section, across Gowdie and Gray's main room—with its tables surrounded by tea-sipping Muggles—out into the chill Glasgow night.

She scans the pavement for—green leaps out from the blacks and greys.

A shamrock on a lapel: the sign for which she's looking.

The slight man notices her, approaches.

She meets him halfway.

"Miss," he greets, touching the brim of his hat.

Merlin's beard, he's young.

"I'm from the Department of Law Enforcement," she says. "You are?"

"My name doesn't matter," he answers, accent almost impenetrably Glaswegian. "All you need to know's Dame Kearney sent me to meet you."

" **'Lady'** Kearney."

"She tells me to call her 'Dame', I call her 'Dame'." He shrugs. "You know how it is."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Superiors and their honourifics."

Minerva suppresses a smile. "Surely you have a name. I need to call you **something**."

He smirks up at her. "No, you don't."

Minerva frowns. "Everyone has a **name**."

"Dame Kearney'll tell you what to call me." He shrugs again.

She huffs—Professor Merrythought's lessons surge up—stifles a reflexive backward step. "Well, we shouldn't keep the Lady waiting. Do we have far to go?"

"Only a few minutes by car." The vampire—but he's too small, too **young** to be a monster, surely—opens the door of a black saloon, bows her inside.

She narrows her eyes.

He sighs, says low, "Dame Kearney doesn't want trouble and that's what interfering with you'd bring, aye? You're safe as houses with me."

"Why should I believe **you**?"

"Because—" An old hurt flashes across his pale features and he takes a breath. "Because I'm what I am to survive and pissin' off your bosses and The Dame's a sure way to make that difficult for me."

Minerva studies him.

The vampire waits, face neutral once more, hand still on the door handle.

"Thank you," she says finally, sliding into the backseat.

He smiles, relieved, and closes the door, reappears on the other side of the car, eases in beside her. 

A nod to the driver and the car glides into traffic and threads through the streets and over the River Clyde.

She divides her attention between the city and the vampire.

"Been to Glasgow before?" he asks.

"No, I haven't."

"Well, she's not much like Edinburgh and **nothing** like London. Has her own way of going."

"It seems so." Minerva side-eyes. "You've visited London."

"Yea, but I can't say as I liked it. Felt too full, ye know? Like I'd never be **welcome** there."

A smile twitches around her lips. "London **does** feel like that at first. She warms up to one rather quickly, though."

The vampire smiles back. "I'll keep that in mind if I'm ever looking to relocate."

"You're native here?"

"Aye. Born a few streets over that way—" He waves vaguely eastward. "—in fact. But yer not a Londoner. More like Inverness."

"Farther north, closer to Thurso."

He blinks, surprised.

"Do I not strike you as a highlander?"

"Highlander, yea, but wherever you've been's done a good job of straightening your speech. Last bloke I met from Thurso-way, we had to pass notes to understand each other."

Minerva laughs. "I suspect that has as much to do with your brogue as his."

"It **can't** be me, aye? There's a hundred who sound like me for every **one** talks like him," he pouts, blue eyes laughing.

But what in the name of Merlin is she doing, teasing— **flirting** with a vampire? Even if he reminds her a bit of—

She shudders.

"You cold?"

"I'm fine," snaps Minerva.

The vampire holds his palms out in surrender, presses himself against the door, giving her blessed space.

Minerva breathes deeply through her nose, pretends to watch the city slide by.

The vampire says nothing.

The car purrs to a stop.

The vampire hops out, opens her door.

Minerva unfolds herself, straightens her attire.

He offers a hand, guides her onto the kerb, leans in quick.

She controls the urge to recoil.

"A bit of advice 'cos I like your hat," he says. "Play it quiet with The Dame. She's gonna try t'get a rise outta you. Don't let her or she'll use it against ye."

Minerva schools her face to neutrality, nods.

The vampire gives her a brief smile, then retreats into impassivity and steers them to a restaurant.

The doorman bows low. "You are welcome to enter, Miss, Master."

"Thank you," she says.

Inside—

"May I take your coat?"

"I prefer to keep it on. This will be brief."

The vampire nods, indicates the door to the dining room.

Minerva strides across the empty space to the lone occupied table and its tenant, an impeccably-dressed woman with jet black hair, apparently in her forties.

The vampire queen studies her just as thoroughly.

"Minerva McGonagall, here on behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she announces.

"Dame Malina Kearney, Laird of Glasgow-to-the-South," replies the other, inclining her head.

"Charmed."

"The same, love. Please, sit."

The young vampire pulls out a chair.

Minerva settles herself, allows him to help her shift into place. She pulls a recording quill and parchment from her bag, positions them on the table.

Kearney watches with clear interest while the other vampire takes his seat beside her.

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me on such short notice, Dame Kearney."

The quill scratches away, inscribing every word.

"It's my pleasure, Minerva-dear." Kearney folds her hands. "About what would you like to speak to me?"

"The Ministry of Magic wants to know your involvement in the 'vampire hunt' of twenty-third September of this year and the events leading up to it."

"You mean the murder which sent those schoolchildren into the Necropolis thirsting for bloody vengeance on a supposed vampire."

"I do. What do you know about it?"

"All I know is it was my boy here—" Kearney clamps a possessive hand on the young vampire's shoulder. "—they were chasing that night, but he didn't kill that poor lad."

"Does he—" Minerva bobs her head toward him. "—have a name? For the case notes, you understand."

"He hasn't earned one yet." Kearney twists a bit of his blond hair around her finger. "Perhaps in ten years or so he'll be ready for that sort of independence."

Minerva sniffs. "Fine. Why are you certain he didn't kill the boy?"

"It's quite simple, love. He **can't** have." Kearney smirks. "By the blood contract which binds him to me, until I name him he can't hunt without my permission and I would **never** allow one of my scions—youths like him—to hunt children. It's impossible—completely beyond his ability—to break that oath."

"And you? Is it beyond **your** ability?"

Kearney laughs. "It's beyond good sense. If **I** break my word and hurt a child, he's free to do whatever he will. We **can't** have that."

Minerva raises an eyebrow.

"He still needs my protection, dear. Why, the very first time I let him leave my side, he picked a fight with a mob and landed in hospital." Kearney clicks her tongue, takes hold of his chin, tilts his head back exposing his throat. "They did a marvelous job repairing him, don't you think?"

"Yes, you can barely see the scars. A broken jaw, was it?"

Kearney releases him, humming. "Most of his teeth, as well. It cost me a pretty penny to have him put back together."

"He must be someone special to you."

"Oh, no! He's merely something I found in the gutter and brought home to polish—"

Minerva bites down her temper.

"—but I always take good care of my toys."

"Of course," drawls Minerva.

Kearney smiles, predatory.

"Since you and your scions are not responsible for the murder, who is?"

"I have **no** idea." Kearney spreads her hands.

The young vampire grimaces.

Minerva turns to him. "Do **you** know?"

He startles, glances at Kearney, says, very slowly, "I have a **suspicion**."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kearney demands.

He cringes. "I didn't say 'cos it's just a guess and it's outside your holdings."

Kearney huffs. "Well, tell Minerva. Hurry up!"

"Yes, ma'am." He takes a deep breath, meets Minerva's eyes. "I'm pretty sure the dullahan lives along Dumbarton Road did it. He'll kill anyone for the right price and I heard 'im laughing when those little fu—menaces spotted me."

"There's a dullahan in Glasgow."

"It's the unfortunate truth," sighs Kearney. "My colleagues across the river have been unable to convince him to leave though they've been trying for **decades**."

"I see."

"I expect the Laird of Kelvinside can help narrow your search for the dullahan."

"I'm sure he can and I will ask him at our meeting. Thank you for your time, Dame Kearney."

"You are **most** welcome. Please, visit again under more pleasant circumstances."

"Thank you." Minerva tucks away the quill and parchment transcript, pushes to her feet. "May you have good health and pleasant nights until we meet again."

"The same to you, Minerva," purrs Kearney. "Lovely, see her safely back."

"Yes, ma'am."

Minerva strides, the young vampire at her side, to the car.

He gets the door for her, then tucks himself into his side of the seat.

She watches the city through the window glass on the return trip to Elmbank Street.

The vampire exits first, opens her door, helps her to the curb, walks with her until they draw even with the shopfront next to Gowdie and Gray's, then stops.

She pauses, raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not welcome on their pavement," he explains. "This's as close as I can get without causing a scene."

"I see."

He leans against the plate glass, crosses one ankle over the other. "Mind if I—?" Holds out a packet of cigarettes he pulls from a pocket.

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." He lights a cigarette, puts it to his lips, inhales deeply, cocks his head at the thing, exhales. "I don't **need** these, but I miss 'em after a while."

Minerva snorts.

He smiles.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Fire away."

"How old are you really?"

"Nineteen."

Minerva's jaw drops.

"Born June nineteen-thirty-five."

"You're only—and you're already—?"

The last bit squeaks.

"Yea, but I'd be dead if it weren't for Dame Kearney."

She goggles.

"It was this life or the graveyard, so I took this."

"But sh-she completely controls you!"

"'s better'n **dead**. I had to choose, so I did."

Minerva gapes at him.

"Listen, yer about my age, yea? What'd you give up, right now, to keep on living? Or even t'keep your new job?"

Her heart stutters, threatens to escape her chest.

She takes a step back, hand to her mouth.

"There's a bloke broken-hearted. That's what I thought."

Minerva controls herself, rallies. " **You're** going to be a mur—"

"I already am."

"How can you even **think** about living as a-a—you know?!"

"Simple: I don't wanna die yet."

"It's **evil**."

"Listen." He tosses aside the cigarette, steps toe-to-toe with her, hisses, "This isn't about money or power or prestige. This's **survival**." He leans even closer, nose nearly touching hers, eyes blazing. "Maybe if I had magic or some of those fancy brews your lot's hiding, I could've done different. For 'Muggle' me, this was my only chance to save myself."

"You plan to kill others to keep 'saving' yourself."

"If I have to."

"Why we consider your kind 'beings' is beyond me," she spits.

He smiles. "It's politics. **We** have some of the money and power and prestige **you** want. Until **you** figure out a way to kill **us** all, **you're** stuck playing nice."

Minerva growls, turns on her heel, marches away, back straight.

""Say 'hello' to London for me~!"" calls the vampire.

She slams Gowdie and Gray's door.

Head swivel.

"My apologies. The wind seems to have pulled it out of my hands."

"It's alright, lass," reassures the witch behind the counter. "That happens sometimes. May I pour you a cuppa?"

Minerva sighs in at an empty table. "That would be lovely."

"Coming right up~!"

**Author's Note:**

> Sticking my toe into another fandom, finally, and hoping I don't embarrass myself _too_ badly.
> 
> Beta by the ever-wonderful artificiallifecreator! Thank you, sweetbee!
> 
> For MoiraColleen for helping me brainstorm a bit about Glasgow's signature vampire a long, _long_ time ago.
> 
> [Original image](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bobzee666/9338011003/in/photolist-Jcuovj-feaKkH-dutLdz-dutSAT-T53Quk-dutNWD-dutM8H-54KYJk-4FBFny-4Fxx2i-4FBHNC-4FxnLv-dutPEe-4FBG8y-5gomzK-dutYW8-8tcchw-4RE59i-obVGG6-idf1x-8tcctf-3JypqZ-BLC4Q-5gommv-8rhSV5-5ZtqPB-dbCAB3-9nNXzm-6xpdXq-6xk3GV-5ZzazV-7J9MR1-4U7qTA-4Ecgat-qJ6uKt-7Yg43r-7J9Jdm-duzrhu-qHgmAi-bBA35e-5gsHYG-q4Jou8-duzsaw-7Yghqp-96jqd-9nNXnA-5ZxuSC-dutV6a-6xpdJL-zRciP) by [Robert Graham](https://www.flickr.com/photos/bobzee666/)
> 
> The 'vampire hunt' at the center of the story is an actual event which took place in September 1954, [the Gorbals Vampire Incident](http://www.spookyisles.com/2014/03/the-gorbals-vampire-and-the-southern-necropolis/). Besides the sheer awesome of this story, more inspiration comes from assorted Tumblr posts which hint the events have given rise to a legendary Glaswegian vampire whose teeth are steel _because the locals kicked in his original set_. Which doesn't seem far-fetched, given that the inspiration is pre-teens arming themselves to confront an adult, monstrous murderer without asking for help from the police or their parents.
> 
> I've never been a fan of vampire stories, but something about the steel-jawed Glaswegian model won't let me alone, so I'm gonna give him my best shot.


End file.
